


Whispers in the Dark

by barefootnightingale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Isaac Whump, Isaac just needs a cuddle, M/M, Pre-Slash, Requisite post "Motel" fic, Scott's troubled, basically they need to cuddle it out, like I do after that episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barefootnightingale/pseuds/barefootnightingale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac doesn't know what happened to Scott at the motel because nobody will say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whispers in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic mentions suicide attempts while under the influence of drugs, and past child abuse. 
> 
> Be warned. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with "Teen Wolf", only my own pain and trauma. 
> 
> Prompted by firethenightsky on tumblr. 
> 
> My tumblr's barefootnightingale, and if you have any fic prompts feel free to drop some in my ask. :D
> 
> Title taken from the Mumford & Sons song of the same name. 
> 
> *First fic here on A03 so all feedback is brilliant*

The knock on Scott’s door came hours after the bus pulled into the Beacon Hills High parking lot, and Isaac wasn’t sure if it would be a welcome one.

That night Derek di—fell, when he’d passed Scott’s open door and watched him don his coat, when he looked into Scott’s eyes and watched him lie, Isaac had been so sure of his new place.

Scott’s Beta.

Derek may have given him the bite, given Isaac physical strength and a damn good healing factor, but it was Scott who’d shown compassion, who’d shown him he could heal others as well as hurt.

Which is why it was so difficult now to feel helpless.

Isaac knocked tentatively again before shoving his hands back into the pockets of his olive hoodie. Nobody would talk about what happened last night there at Suicide Suites, but even Stiles was fairly subdued during the journey home, and Isaac hadn’t been able to get close enough to puzzle out the lingering smell of gasoline hanging in the air and the tannic taste of worry smothering Allison.

He just knew it had something to do with Scott.

He rapped a third time before turning the handle and peering in.

“Scott?”

_Seriously, Isaac, what did you think he’d be doing, sobbing his lungs out under a bed, like you? Get a grip._

From the doorway, Isaac watched as Scott did pull-up after pull-up, not a pause longer than a heartbeat between each one, sweat running in rivulets from where his biceps were pulled taught and pooling at the dip of his lower back. He gave himself a moment to watch a single drop run its course from hairline to hip bone, wondering, in his moment of weakness, what Scott’s skin tasted like, if he’d growl when a tongue traced its path or whimper and arch his back. _Jesus, Isaac, control your dick, for Christ’s sake, you’re here as a concerned friend, not a creepy perv._

Clearing his throat and chaining his want back behind concern and fear, Isaac tried again to get Scott’s attention.

“Scott?” he asked hesitantly, hovering in the doorway, “are you…er…could we…?”

“I’m fine, Isaac.” He finished the pull-up he was on and dropped to the carpet, hands clenched and muscles tense, before he let out a sigh and turned around. “Did you need something?”

“No, I—uh…I wondered if you were hungry? We never did get that Mexican the other night.”

Isaac watched Scott flinch and turn away before he realized what he’d said.

“Or not! I’ve just—uh…liked hanging out with you and thought, maybe, we could watch a movie or something tonight. Together. Or, or—I just…”

“I’m really tired tonight, Isaac, maybe tomorrow.” Scott’s tone was flat as it came bounding out of the bathroom where Isaac could hear the sink faucet twist on and off.

The temptation to leave the conversation at that and slip away while he still could was strong, and past experience told Isaac to leave well enough alone before he got hurt, but the wolf in him was hurt and scared and lost after last night and if he closed his eyes, he could still hear his father’s voice in his head and hear the rattling of chains and the steps creeping ever closer—

From a distance, Isaac could hear a voice saying something, the timber of sound a spark of familiarity.

—bending down, a face finding him. He couldn’t go back in there, _toosmalldarkcold, no no please please I didn’t mean it please—_

“ _Isaac!_ ”

This was the third time Scott had brought him back with a rumbling growl, and Isaac latched onto his voice like a deep-sea diver sucking in fresh air as the face became Scott’s and—

“Isaac. _Look at me_.”

Scott’s eyes flashed red and Isaac pulled his face out of his arms where he’d been peering up and let his head fall back against the doorjam. The wolf in him fucking whimpered in submission as Isaac looked up at his Alpha and Isaac wondered at the solidity of the boy—man kneeling in front of him.

_Look at him, you pathetic child, he went through something just as harrowing as you did and who’s the one whimpering on the ground like a kicked puppy?_

Scott made a show of reaching his hands out slowly before letting them drop onto Isaac’s pulled up knees, and while Isaac tried to ignore the tenderness in his touch out of fear he’d lose it, he couldn’t ignore the concern behind Scott’s now-amber eyes or the way he seemed to smell of cinnamon and apples and warmth.

“I’m sor—“

“If you’re about to apologize, don’t. I’m serious, Isaac, there’s no need. Now come over here and fess up. What’s wrong? I’ve been around Stiles enough to know curiosity and worry toward me when I see it.”

Scott let go of Isaac’s knees and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, the wet washcloth he’d been using in the bathroom a forgotten pile of white against the dark comforter where it’d been dropped.

Isaac didn’t give himself a chance to think about what he was going to say before he blurted it out.

“What happened to you back there? I know something happened because after Lydia found me and Stiles burnt me with the flare, they just took off talking about you.”

Scott’s face darkened and the air hung heavy with the peppery taste of anger.

“Isaac—“

“Please don’t tell me that nothing happened or that you’re fine because when I’d finally sucked it up enough to crawl out from under the bed where I’d been hiding like a scared little child, I found Boyd standing in the bathroom, soaking wet and growling with no explanation, and by the time I found the balls to try and find you, Stiles and Allison were helping you onto the bus, and no one would tell me anything. I know you don’t trust me, and everyone thinks I’m still part of Derek’s pack, but I can smell that you’re angry and I don’t know why and—“

Isaac could feel another panic attack coming on, his breaths getting shorter as his sentences ran on, but he couldn’t push the feeling of _gottafindScott_ away and then seeing him back with Allison when all Isaac wanted to do was grab on and not let go _hurt_ —

“ _Breathe._ ” That voice was back, and this time Scott bodily tugged Isaac onto the bed and pulled Isaac’s face into his neck. “Just breathe.”

And Isaac did. He devoured the cold fresh scent of the water from the washcloth where Scott had been wiping the sweat from his face; the sweaty earth-tinged musk leftover from his workout; that ever emerging taste of lighting that started sparking the same day Scott’s ruby eyes appeared. The cloying mix of lavender and soap in the sheets.

Isaac lost himself in the smells of his new adopted home and it was a while before he realized that Scott was talking again.

“—hopelessness. Complete and utter loss. There didn’t seem like any other option, so I was going to make the one choice I could. I thought I could save everyone if I just let things go back to the way they were before: before I was popular, before I was Captain of the team, before I met Derek. Before the bite. “

Scott paused, and the silence spread out like a blanket over the two of them. Isaac felt his toes bump the wet spot on the duvet from the washcloth, and nudged— _Nudged, definitely not nuzzled, no matter how much you’re enjoying this hug right now, Lahey, this is just comfort from friend to friend and you are not a wolf pup wanting a rub-down_ — Scott to keep talking.

“I almost killed Stiles. I mean, I get that I almost burned myself alive, and that’s awful, it is. And I realize how awful it would have been for them to have witnessed it, you know? The nightmares and trauma and pain that I would’ve left behind for them, and I’ve forgiven whatever part of my wolfsbane-drugged mind that thought that would be okay. But Stiles started talking me down, trying to get the flare out of my hand, and there was a tiny part of me that was happy. Because we’d go out together and I wouldn’t be alone. I can’t ever forgive the part of me that wanted to kill my best friend. And I know he’ll say that it’s no different than my first full moon, but…”

Isaac felt the shiver that ran through Scott’s body and pressed himself a little closer.

“I thought I was back in the freezer again. The chains heavy on the lid; th-the shelf pressing into my back.” Isaac’s voice was muffled, face pressed into Scott’s collarbone, but Scott’s hand found a home against his spine so Issac pressed on. “If Stiles and Lydia hadn’t found me, I would still be lying there, waiting for the sound of boots on the carpet.”

His voice faded away into a soundtrack of chirping crickets and a lone owl hooting in the distance. They lay there entwined, Scott’s fingertips tapping out a staccato rhythm on Isaac’s back and Isaac’s nose settling into the space under Scott’s jaw.

Neither confessed the comfort they drew from the other’s revelation.

And if Isaac failed to mention that sometimes he still heard his father’s voice in his head, or Scott happily crafted a part of him that was still attracted to Allison, well…

It was something they could settle in the morning.


End file.
